t to do the thing in granite."

Sir Robert Aylward sat in his own quiet room at the back of this
enduring building, a very splendid room that any Secretary of State
might have envied, but arranged in excellent taste. Its walls were
panelled with figured teak, a rich carpet made the footfall noiseless,
an antique Venus stood upon a marble pedestal in the corner, and over
the mantelpiece hung a fine portrait by Gainsborough, that of a certain
Miss Aylward, a famous beauty in her day, with whom, be it added, its
present owner could boast no connection whatsoever.

Sir Robert was seated at his ebony desk playing with a pencil, and the
light from a cheerful fire fell upon his face.

In its own way it was a remarkable face, as he appeared then in his
fourth and fortieth year; very pale but with a natural pallor, very well
cut and on the whole impressive. His eyes were dark, matching his black
hair and pointed beard, and his nose was straight and rather prominent.
Perhaps the mouth was his weakest feature, for there was a certain
shiftiness about it, also the lips were thick and slightly sensuous.
Sir Robert knew this, and therefore he grew a moustache to veil them
somewhat. To a careful observer the general impression given by this
face was such as is left by the sudden sight of a waxen mask. "How
strong! How lifelike!" he would have said, "but of course it isn't
real. There may be a man behind, or there may be wood, but that's only
a mask." Many people of perception had felt like this about Sir Robert
Aylward, namely, that under the mask of his pale countenance dwelt a
different being whom they did not know or appreciate.

If these had seen him at this moment of the opening of our story, they
might have held that Wisdom was justified of her children. For now
in the solitude of his splendid office, of a sudden Sir Robert's mask
seemed to fall from him. His face broke up like ice beneath a thaw. He
rose from his table and began to walk up and down the room. He talked to
himself aloud.

"Great Heavens!" he muttered, "what a game to have played, and it will
go through. I believe that it will go through."

He stopped at the table, switched on an electric light and made a rapid
calculation on the back of a letter with a blue pencil.

"Yes," he said, "that's my share, a million and seventeen thousand
pounds in cash, and two million in ordinary shares which can be worked
off at a discount--let us say another seven hundred and